Mothers and daughters
by stripped to the bones
Summary: Just a drabble on moms and daughters. Brennan's not quite perspective or pov, but Brennan's something.


So, this is a drabble I guess. Just something I thought as I was ridding the subway yesterday. Hope you like it.

Sorry for the spelling and the grammar.

Disclaimer: Nothing is mine, I'm not making any money out of this.

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It didn't happen often. Maybe once or twice a year. It was very rare, actually. And yet, or perhaps because of that, you failed to conceal it.

You hadn't thought about that in a while, not that one ever really stops thinking about it, it just becomes everyday life. You just go through the motions of live, come and go, make big decisions –should I take this job?- or really small ones –Saldad or sandwich?-, change your toothbrush every three month, meet new people, cut people out. You just live and don't think of it.

But every now and then, without any warning, by the same image that any other day would have triggered nothing, you are stunned. It's not really the image, it's the interaction. The little things one never notices but that are there. And suddenly you're a voyeur to a public scene. You're captive and you just can't stop staring. You can't listen to what they are saying, and you really don't need to. It's not the the words, it's the language, the way they look at each other and away from each other, the smiles and the secrets you guess they share. They are ridding the subway, just like you, a Saturday afternoon like any other. You can imagine, and you will, that maybe they are visiting a relative and talking about the things they won't say in front of that person. Or maybe they're going shopping.

And you play in your head the way it will go. Maybe she needs a dress for a date, or perhaps she just grew out of her clothes. And the mom will wait until the girl comes out of the dressing room. Her face will gleam at the sight of the daughter wearing whatever. Or not, or she'll say I can believe you like those clothes. And the girl will hate her, there would be a fight. Maybe they make up then or later at home. None of that is relevant.

The thing is you see it. You see them, the way they act around each other, together. And then another mother and daughter pass by you. The girl lets the mother sit first and then she takes the space next to her. And you know they are mother and daughter because they look so much alike, the features, the hair, the body type. And because you see how they tuck their hair behind they hears with the same motion. The first mother and daughter had a distinct manner to raise their eyebrows while talking. This pair has the tucking and a slight tilting of the head before they chuckle.

You are an outsider. You don't belong in those scenes, nor does any one else on the subway. But you don't belong to any scene like that. You won't share those looks, you won't come out of a dressing room face lit up waiting for approval, you won't tell any secret, you won't be comforted with a piece of cake, you won't have long late night talks, you won't get any advice on that job or that salad. There won't be eyes full of pride when your next book is published, nor there will be a casual caress on the back of your head as she walks by you on her way to the kitchen. There won't be any messages on your machine –or you in voice – asking you to call more often. No one will tell you to take a jacket in case it's cold later, or ask you do you have money and keys even when you're thirty-two. No one will gab you hand and stare at it to say you know what, we have the same hands. You'll never get the chance to see if that's true, even when you know it is. There won't be anyone nagging on you getting married and having children so she can spoil them.

You look away from those scenes that aren't yours. You wish. Knowing it is impossible, you still wish. Not that you weren't abandoned, you just wish you had the chance to say you won't get married and won't have any children. You wish there would be a hug for no reason that makes you feel perfect just because you were born. You wish you could see how you're going to age just by staring at her. You sigh. It's pointless. You're longing for something you're never going to get and never even know how it feels. Maybe it's that. Knowing that you will never know. You are not longer a daughter. You no longer have a mother.

Not that you need a mother. You're a grown woman, you are very proud of yourself, and you should, you've done remarkable things. Without a mother. In fact, it is possible that some of the things you've done, that you've accomplished, you could do because you didn't have a mother. You had to endure and that made you the person you are.

That idea calms you and makes you feel a little bit guilty. You decided to let the guilt go –after all and by whatever reason you were left alone- and let the soothing feeling spread. It helps. Not much, you still wish for all those things.

When you glance around mothers and daughters are gone. You must have spanned for longer that you thought. And then there's your stop. You get off the subway, make your way to the street and walk to the building.

The door opens a few seconds after you knock. One look at your face and she knows. She smiles, grabs her keys and jacket –you are really close to ask if she has money too- and you both are walking again. You're looking straight ahead, your eyes barely squinting because of the sun, or the wind, or just because. You're not sad, you're just... wishful. She just looks at you with that bright smile on her face.

You feel the arm around your neck and the lips on your cheekbone. You smile but don't look at her. Your best friend holds her grip on you as you two walk.

"I so wanna be there when you have your daughter" She says, her voice drips excitement.

"I won't have any children" You reply still smiling, completely convinced that you won't ever have a child.

"Yeah, well, I am still gonna be there when you have your daughter" She dismisses your statement.

You chuckle and she squeezes you a bit tighter.

The scenes replay in your head, your eyes full of pride now, your hand on the back of the head, your advise on lunch and College. Your hug evaporating the Boogie Man, the heart-break, the pains of adulthood too. You can see forty years into the future for the briefest of moments. It's impossible, you know that. But if it could be something slightly resembling what you see, well, then, you would most definitely want to have a child.

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Hope you liked it, tell me either way, I like reviews. Seriously, I really do like them.

SttB


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